


Low Tide

by smolderingskies



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Beaches, Day At The Beach, F/M, Friendship, Mutual Pining, Slow Dancing, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 09:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15683046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolderingskies/pseuds/smolderingskies
Summary: Reaper/Reader romance fanfic with platonic Sombra elements.  You've organized a Talon day at the beach, but Sombra is the only one to bother showing up.  She spends the day teasing you about your crush.  Everything changes when he shows up.





	Low Tide

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my Overwatch imagines Tumblr, overwatch-summer-reads.

You’d expected the Talon beach trip to be a bit more, well, populated.  It had been your idea, after all - there was a moment of downtime, and it might be good for unwinding, or team bonding, or something equally as intangible.  Mostly, you missed what it was like to feel hugged by the sunlight and the humid beach air on a summer day. You had imagined collecting seashells with your closest teammates, trading them.  It was childish, in hindsight.  Why would the people you typically fought beside want to have a day or two of relaxation when so much was at stake?

Regardless, everyone had come up with some kind of excuse to use their day off for something more productive.  Everyone - except for one.

Sombra lounged on the beach chair beside you, nursing a popsicle that was melting more quickly than she cared to notice, sprawling out her legs in a way that must have seemed most beneficial for a suntan.  It had been late afternoon when you arrived. Now it was nearly sunset, and she was trying to get every minute in that she could.  You had brought a book along, which was currently on your lap, thus far untouched.  Sombra lolled her head lazily toward you. She gave you a look over her sunglasses that indicated you were ruining her vacation.

“You can’t think about it too much, amiga.  At least we get a day at the seashore.  Everyone else will be jealous of our sun-kissed skins when we get back, and then they’ll never say no again.  You’ll see.”

Shifting uncomfortably, you toyed with a string on your bikini.  “I had at least hoped that – I don’t know – maybe, that – that at least Gabriel would show up.”  

Sombra threw her head back, barking a short laugh.  “Oh, honey, I’d like to see that big crybaby on the beach, in all his black clothes, grumbling about how hot he is.”  She peered at you sideways, deviousness quirking her lips.  “What, you think you’d like to see him in a swimsuit?”

You scoffed a haughty chuckle, fingering the pages of your novel, and struggled to come up with a response.  It wasn’t like there had been meaningful glances between you and Reaper in the halls of the Talon compound, because his eyes were always hidden behind a mask.  But each time you accidentally brushed against him, or he corrected your aim with a firm hand, you couldn’t help but feel the electric shock that made your head buzz for hours.  And his voice made you shudder - in a way that wasn’t full of fear, as it had once been.

Sombra let out an exuberant hoot at your silence, nudging you with her arm, sticky with tanning oil and sweat.  “Ooh, have I hit a sensitive spot?  Is there something you want to tell me?”

You shrugged and buried your nose in your book, using it to shield your face which was red, although perhaps only because the heat was finally getting to you. Ever since the incident last week, when Reaper had been caught holding a piece of paper outside your door that he promptly tore to shreds, you’d been the butt of all sorts of teasing from your teammates. Sure, you’d thought about it. Even now, you had a hard time focusing on the words on the page, your mind drifting to the idea of having warm hands grip your waist with a roughness, biting mysterious lips from underneath a mask —

“Well, if you don’t wanna talk anymore, I’m going down to the water.” Sombra wedged her popsicle stick in the sand so it was sticking straight up, and she slinked down toward the seafoam collecting on the shore. You could see her poking at the tiny fiddler crabs scattering at her feet, and you smiled a bit. She was a good friend, if a terrible gossip.

No matter how you tried, you still couldn’t focus on your book, so after the fifth time of scanning the same sentence you threw it down on the beach chair and moved towards the water as well. You needed to clear your head. “I’m going for a walk,” you called to Sombra. She nodded in acknowledgement, up to her knees in the water and even deeper in thought.

“I’m going back to the hotel soon, I’ll grab your things,” she called back as you strode away. Sunset was rather nigh, you realized — it wouldn’t be long before it was dark all along the beach. So you focused on your walk, tasting the briny air, kicking up the water as you went along. You watched the sunset alone, scrunching your toes into the mud just near the lapping waves, your feet sinking incrementally deeper into the sand with each push and pull of the tide. Becoming one with the ocean.

You felt him first. Cool tendrils of darkness chilled the air, giving you goosebumps moments before the sun slid below the horizon, leaving a dusky purple in its wake. A little afraid to look, your gaze slid to your left, then over your shoulder to look at Reaper. He looked a little pissed off - but then, didn’t he always?

“Where’s Sombra?” he hissed, the last remnants of his shadowstep dissolving as he took on a more corporeal form.

You shrugged. “About a half mile that way, I guess. I think she went back to our hotel room.”

He clenched and unclenched his fists, debating what to say next. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.” His words sounded choked, strained.

“I can take care of myself,” you said, crossing your arms indignantly. Any relaxation you might have earned from your few moments alone were instantly gone, your shoulders tense, your jaw set.

“You’re a member of Talon now — just being out in public puts you in danger.”

“And why do you care what kind of danger I’m in?”

He stopped at this question, glanced over his shoulder, clenched and unclenched his hands again. The silence was, at first, thoughtful - and then it was uncomfortably long. He was stuck. Softening, you sighed and let down your guard. “Reaper—”

A loud beat plays from a bar up the shore, surprising both of you, causing you to jump. It’s a live artist, playing a bad cover of a Jimmy Buffet song. A giggle bubbles up in your chest. Reaper cocks his head quizzically at your outburst of laughter. You step closer to him, arms outstretched in an offer, a truce. “Want to dance?”

“What?”

“Dancing. It’s something people do together, sometimes.” You grinned, and you took a bold move closer to him, placing his clawed hands on your waist, looping your arms over his shoulders. You laughed again, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you came to the beach in full gear.”

“I was… busy today.” He began to sway with you, and something tense in him eased up at the movement, as though this was easy, this was familiar.

“You don’t have to be busy anymore,” you said, gazing up at his mask where his eyes would be. Maybe you’d been this close to him during training, but this was gentler. For a moment, the two of you danced in silence, to the echo of the music, the rhythm of the ocean moving with you, rolling in and out.

Something about it felt right. On tiptoes you angled yourself, and softly brushed your lips against his mask, all the while keeping your eyes open. Your heart was pounding, but you weren’t scared. This was a different feeling. Reaper stopped swaying.

“Promise me you aren’t afraid,” he said. His voice was shaking.

“I’m not,” you said.

Slowly, he took his hand off your waist, and with his fingertips cradled the edge of his mask. He hesitated. Then he angled it upward, revealing a mouth that seemed to be partially shrouded in something darker, a face which had features that resembled old photos of Gabriel Reyes, but more gaunt, and eyes that burned with a fire that flipped your stomach.

This time, he leaned down to meet you. His kiss was slow, warm, and deep. That same fire burned in your chest, curled in your stomach, awakened every inch of you. You had never felt more alive than you did now, in the embrace of a half-dead man. Before you were finished, he broke away, caressing your face with a gloved hand.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he growled, something possessive in him awoken.

You smirked, returning his softness by stroking his own cheek, not allowing him to recoil from your touch. When you gazed at him, it all clicked together. “And I can’t wait to do it again,” you said, once more closing the distance.


End file.
